the lost lamb
by curt lemon
Summary: "It was this world that mangled them, that took those good innocent kids and twisted them, wrung out their light, and pressed them down until they were only a whimpering shadow of themselves. And, oh, how they whimpered."/ A shot at Bonnie, and her reaction to her death.


**A/N: Just an attempt at what was going through Bonnie's head when she dead. I guess you could place this in 4x23, after the phone call with Caroline, right before Bonnie leaves the cave for the Graduation ceremony. (Titled after song "The Lost Lamb" by Abigail Washburn**

* * *

Winter. How she once hated winter. The slushy mix of rain and snow that insisted on falling each year, no matter how many times she wished it not to. And the cold- oh, how she protested the cold, with chattering teeth and coats zipped up tight.

And yet, what would she give now? Just to feel that cold once more. To feel that chill that nipped at her once warm cheeks. Anything, really. What she would give to feel _anything_.

Everything.

Because here, in this dank, dark cave, hidden from the sun and all of its warmth, where she now stands just feet form her own lifeless form, it is cold.

Yes, how disturbing it is, for her to see her own dead self.

But how disturbing more, is this cold? Disturbing because she does not feel it. Not initially. She has to think on it, focus on it, _try_ to feel it. Only then does she. And how upsetting is that? That she does not even notice the bone chilling cold, all because she is dead.

Oh, how she wants to cry. So badly, she wants to simply drop to the floor and empty out her lungs. How refreshing it would be to free every broken sob waiting inside her chest to be set loose, to drown in the sound of her cries bouncing off the cave walls, to feel the slap of them being thrown back in her face, only to reverberate off another of those lifeless rocks towering around her and then scatter in every direction.

How good would it feel, to let out every _fucking_ tear stored inside her brand new ghost ducts, and then some?

But she does not cry. She cannot.

Because she is Bonnie Bennett, powerful witch goddess, savior of all her idiot friends.

And how awful is it, that even now, in her death, she feels guilty for even thinking of them as idiots?

_No_, she wants to take the thought back. _They are not idiots. _Caroline, Matt, Elena, Jeremy, Tyler- they're good kids. _Really_, despite it all, _they are_. They just got... stuck- caught up in a world they were never meant to be a part of. And it was in this awful, dark world, full of selfish, vengeful vampires, of werewolves with twisted motives, of witches pulled between sides, of doppelgängers cursed from birth, of hunters with as little control over themselves as a newborn vampire who awakens in a hospital full of blood- it was this world that mangled them, that took those good, innocent kids and twisted them, wrung out their light, and pressed them down, until they were each only a whimpering shadow of themselves.

It was cruel. It was harsh. It _hurt._ And, oh, how they whimpered. Each and every one of them.

But they were never supposed to live in this world. Nature did not mean for it to be. How many times, after all, had nature herself tried to free them from it?

But this world- this dark world- was greedy. And once it claimed them as victims, it would not let them go so easily. How many times, after all, had each of them come within arms length of death, only to be pulled back?

Saved? No.

Pulled back? Yes.

Pulled right back into suffering. Unwillingly signing a contract with Despair in exchange for life. But what kind of life? Lonely. Tragic. The kind that hands you everything you could ever want- love, friends, family- and then rips it away, laughing.

They were just kids, doomed from the start.

How could she not die for these people?

No, she cannot cry. She is Bonnie Bennett, she doesn't cry. She throws her chin up, gives whatever vampire happens to be pestering her the best aneurysm she can muster up, and pushes past them with a disinterested shrug.

She is Bonnie Bennett. She does not cry. She has friends to save.

Even in death, she will not stop. She _cannot_ stop.

She can't help it. She loves them, and no matter how much she would love to cry right now, she knows she would do it all again.

She would die a thousand times over it if meant saving her friends.

Because she's Bonnie Fucking Bennett. Do not underestimate what she will do for them. Rational, level headed Bonnie- yes, when it comes to love, all of that goes out the window. So she doesn't cry, she blinks back one lone tear, wipes the dirt from her pants, and turns her back on the identical corpse just inches from her grasp.

She is Bonnie Bennett, and she has friends to save. Even in death, she will not stop.


End file.
